


Every Heart's a Hurricane

by Shining_star_rae



Series: Back to the Past Verse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, The Magic of the world was not pleased with how things turned out, because that was obviously the only solution, but they do have their instincts and intuition to guide them, or future I guess, so it decided it would turn back time, they don't have any memories of their past lives, time is nonlinear for magic so it does remember everything that happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 06:52:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shining_star_rae/pseuds/Shining_star_rae
Summary: It’s easier to think of possible futures early in the morning. When the dreams and colors are fresh and inviting. Sometimes though, when the sun is still rising and his parents are curled around each other in comforting sleep, James lays with his arms spread out wide, listening to the songbirds until he can no longer ignore the chatter of magic in his room, and he lets the dreams drift back into darkness.





	Every Heart's a Hurricane

“Blue, Lily lily, blue. Blue. Blue. Blue, Lily lily, blue. Blue Blue.”

“Would you stop singing that? It’s annoying.”

The little girl with red hair quieted her singing into a hum. She did not look up at her older sister as she did so, too lost in her own little world. No, that was wrong. The little girl was not lost in her own little world, she thought that perhaps it was a world only very special people were allowed into and that she was one of them. She was opening and closing her fist. Whenever it was open, a white lily with large petals was there, when she closed it, she felt a seed.

It was really rather spectacular. Not even a week ago she couldn’t even make the flower grow, only keep it alive. But Lily was a special brand of determined. She had looked in book after book after book until the process of how and why a flower was able to bloom from a seed had been ingrained into her head. Now it didn’t matter what type of flower it was, Lily could make any flower grow or un-grow. That type of magic was easy, now that she understood it. Lily loved understanding things and Lily loved the magic in the special world she was privy to. And oh how the magic in the area loved this little girl back. She was much more like it then anyone would have expected.

People will often say birds of a feather flock together and in this case it was very much true. The magic whispered to Lily, though she could only sometimes hear it, and it told her marvelous things about flying and creatures and earth. Oh it loved telling its little Lily about the earth. It was where everyone came from, where everyone would return. The earth was a playground for people like Lily. _So there are people like me!_ Oh yes, but you’re a little different. Everyone seemed to be a little different these days.

Sometimes the magic would give her gifts. Only tiny things though. Flowers, butterflies of all sorts in the yard, vegetables, a tree. All very normal things. Well, for Lily. Not for anyone else.

Everyone kept telling her to tone it down a little. But what could she do? It wasn’t _her_ doing it, it was the magic. _Yes, yes, we know, but you have to control it._ She was flabbergasted, how on earth could she control something that was so much older than her? So much more powerful? Even if she could, that didn’t mean she wanted to. Besides, didn’t all the adults tell her to respect the elderly?

The thing was, Lily had the strangest feeling she had done this all before. And if she really had, the six year old was certain that the last time she went through this, she had listened to the people around her and not the magic. Lily reasoned that perhaps she shouldn’t have listened and as of this time around, she would keep on doing as she was doing. It’s not like anyone could stop her. Except her mum. Lily made sure there was no funny business at the dinner table. That would just be asking for it.

Lily pauses in her steps. The big dark house on the corner is screaming with magic. It usually is. It’s quieter this week though, now that the family has moved away. Last week, Lily had felt the magic give her options, she still doesn’t know what they were, just that they were there and that she had selected one. Cops had shown up and the family was gone. Poor little boy, she thought. _He’s getting better now._ Still, it would’ve been nice to be his friend. _Maybe. Maybe not._

Lily thinks she’ll see him again one day. It’ll be different from the last she’d been here. But maybe that was the point in all of this. To make things different. The lily in her hands blooms a different color. She’s fairly certain that was the magic agreeing with her.

“Blue, Lily lily, blue. Blue. Bl-“

“ _Lily.”_

 

The wolf wasn’t too bad. He could live with it most days as long as he ate some meat, exercised some, and didn’t think about how his parents couldn’t look him in the eye. In fact, sometimes he felt as if the wolf was the only thing he could turn to for comfort. The wolf seemed to know things, who to trust, who not to trust, who to make friendly with. It was good, it was handy. And Remus didn’t mind having a monster inside him, because at the very least, he knew where it was.

The wolf was not good on the day’s right before and after the full moon. It made Remus cranky, and hurtful, and so sad because things would be better if, if…Remus wasn’t sure what. The air around his ears seemed to hum when he questioned why he felt so out of place. It was like the static on a radio almost, someone was trying to tune it but was too far away, too broken up. Or maybe whoever was using him like a radio wasn’t too far away and it was just Remus who was broken. This was more likely because he knew he was.

Today was a good day though, and mother had taken him into the village park for a lesson in maths. The sun was high in the sky, but the big oak tree shaded them for the most part. Remus was lying on his back, counting the number of leaves as his mother spoke in her soft voice. The wind washed over them, cooling them and… and suddenly Remus was no longer hearing his mother’s voice or seeing the oak leaves. It was weird, not because he appeared to be in a forest, but because the wolf seemed to be rather pleased with its self-which... was not an emotion Remus thought it could have.

Now, that’s no way to speak. _He’s been hurt, quiet._ Remus blinked, startled. Was he hearing voices now? Was it the wolf’s fault? This seemed like it would be the wolf’s fault. Everything that was wrong with him, Remus had learned, was because of the wolf.

There were two animals in front of him. A stag and a dog. Er…maybe a dog, it looked rather like the grim. _Which was always reassuring_ , Remus thought. The dog laughed in a startling non dog like voice and then started to speak. It told him marvelous things about magic and people, and then the stag opened its mouth and gave him hope.

Remus realized rather suddenly, when his mother was dragging him home because his eyes were golden instead of amber brown-because apparently he hadn’t ever left- that this was the first time the radio that was him had worked. Maybe, just maybe, the wolf wasn’t as bad as everyone made it out to be. Sure, he was a little more wonky then some people, but at the very least, he knew he could count on the wolf for who to trust.

“Are you alright? Remus, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, da,” he beamed up at the older man. “Everything is going to be fine. Just you watch.”

 

Sirius had grown up with some of the darkest magic possible. It had been curled around his minute old form like an old friend and it had taken Sirius approximately seven years since to learn how to dance with it instead of being dragged along. He supposed all Black’s were born with some resistance to the dark magic, so that it didn’t drive them mad when they’re young. Sirius wonders quietly-so even if his mother or father are poking around his head they wouldn’t be able to see it-when it starts sinking beneath the skin, corrupting thoughts and disrupting any of the good magic from saving them.

He had dreaded getting old and going mad like cousin Bella was already, despite her being only thirteen, almost fourteen. The key word, however, was had.

After six months of learning occlumency, Sirius had started having weird dreams about wolves and stags and lilies and a little boy with bright green eyes. They were wonderful dreams that left him feeling warmer and happier than he could ever remember. They were promises that left him aching for people he hadn’t yet met or may never know. After that he started feeling that tingling of happiness in his waking hours, driving him onward into the future where being old wasn’t scary because getting old meant getting out.

The dark magic still clung to him, no doubt it always would, but it was covered up by the grey and light magic. Sirius told his brother all of this in the middle of the night, when the portraits were sleeping and their parents couldn’t over hear. If he was going to go running into the future, then he was going to drag his brother by the hand, whether he wanted to or not.

Regulus hadn’t wanted to believe him at first, Sirius could tell by his squinted eyes and scrunched up nose. But Sirius had convinced him, eventually, after multiple late night hot coco’s and promising to be nice to Kreacher-which was harder than it looked because…because it was Kreacher! But Reggie believed him and trusted him so it was worth it in the end and it made the tingling feeling intensify.

It was nice. Nice having something to look forward to for a change.

He was going to make the moments count, because he had the most peculiar feeling he hadn’t in another life and it had ended badly for him. For him and the wolf and stag and lily and the little boy with green eyes. He was going to make everything count.

 

James is about five and a half when he starts whispering excitedly to his parents about all the friends he’s going to make and how this time, _this time_ , everything is going to be okay. He’s going to make it, they’re all going to make. _Make what, James dear, make what?_ I don’t know, mum, I’m just going to have to find out.

It’s easier to think of possible futures early in the morning. When the dreams and colors are fresh and inviting. Sometimes though, when the sun is still rising and his parents are curled around each other in comforting sleep, James lays with his arms spread out wide, listening to the songbirds until he can no longer ignore the chatter of magic in his room, and he lets the dreams drift back into darkness. It’s a little funny. Hearing the magic talk, that is. It constantly shifts from sound to sound-a creak in the stairs, the noises of the roof settling, even when James knows there are spells to keep it from doing that, the tinkling of wind chimes or bells, tree branches brushing the window, the flap of a butterfly wings. The list could go on forever and James would have to spend forever just learning to understand everything at all times. But he can understand some of it, when it lets him. _Curious thing, aren’t you?_ Well, wouldn’t you be? _Yes, yes, if we were like you._ It’s when they let him understand the things they say that James knows with a certainty few have ever possessed, that this is a second coming.

Sometimes he wakes up later in the day, when his dad has already gone off to work and his mum is either making clothing for that part time job of hers or grooming the garden. He wakes up clammy and scared and hurt because _he’s coming, he’s coming! How could he do this to us?_ And James knows that there are two people in his life that will hurt him more than anything. The magic isn’t there for him to listen to, to turn to for calming on those days. It hides up in the dark corners of the room, under the floor boards, and just outside of the window, waiting to be allowed back in. _You’re more powerful than we anticipated._ Why, how? The magic doesn’t answer those kinds of questions.

On those days, he is loud and cheerful, because being loud chases away the fear, and being happy doesn’t allow room for hurt. He chases birds and butterflies in the back yard, digs up worms to hold tenderly, and walks through the garden thinking a _lily should go here_ and here is always right next to him. The magic likes that about him the most, the headstrong, bravery James has even when his heart is like a hummingbirds wings.

On either type of day and the days in between, James is constantly being told to _Wait._ And so he does. He waits while he wakes up in the morning, he waits when he tells his parents the vague things he can tell them about his future friends, he waits when he stands in the field behind his house and feels wild magic dancing around him. James waits when he’s seven and sees a dark headed boy across the room at a gala party, he waits while being taught magic at home, waits at the ages of eight and nine and ten. By the time he is eleven, he’s ready to burst. His hands fidget, he glances at everyone with smiles, hoping they know him like he knows them, continues smiling even when they don’t. It’s only a matter of time. He can be patient.

It’s the first of September, 1971, when James wakes up early in the morning. The sun is still fighting off the gray shades of the night and his parents are still curled around each other in peaceful sleep, so James lays with his arms stretched out the bed, listening to the waking world when he hears it. It’s laced in with the songs of the birds, and James can only laugh because why wouldn’t magic speak the words to him in such away.

_Are you ready to start?_

I’ve been waiting my whole life.

**Author's Note:**

> Every time someone writes about time-travel, the person either wakes up in a younger body with all their memories, or they're their own person but trying to make it in the world. And all of those are fantastic, and I love all of them, but I've always wondered what what happen if people didn't remember what had happened and were stuck feeling like things were wrong but they just couldn't understand why. 
> 
> This story takes back before they're all in Hogwarts, so things haven't gone completely to shite yet, but they are all aware something is coming and it's going to take them by storm. I didn't add Peter into this, because I think if he were ever to go back into the past, memories or not, he would be so overcome with guilt that he just wouldn't get things done in a timely matter-and the magic likes when things are done in a timely matter, that's why it made James wait for so long.


End file.
